In Holy Matrimony
by Kolvina16
Summary: The marriage of Lord Mikaelson to Lady Davina Claire is being celebrated as the wedding of the century. Nobody seems to have asked Davina her opinion. A loosely based Victorian era oneshot.
1. Chapter 1

Davina had never been more terrified in her entire life. She was used to the humid air of the countryside, the sweeping mountains and wide open plains. Not the cramped and bustling streets of New Orleans. The city, for all the lights that twinkled was far too cramped and smelly for her to ever get used to. Everybody seemed to live and die in this city, constantly scrambling for something out of reach. She could see it in their eyes, the look of one selfish and ambitious,a look that she had never seen in her own eyes. And yet here she was, seeming to succeed where everyone else had failed. And she had never been more terrified in her entire life. She was supposed to stay in the country , caring for her father's estate. The kind way of saying that she was a spinster, even at the relatively young age of nine and ten. And then her father had gotten remarried. To a young and beautiful woman, Lady Genevieve. The entirety of the New Orleans ton had sighed in relief, for the well known, though relatively poor Claire name would be saved by a respected member of their circle and not dying with a strange girl, daughter of a long dead woman, who preferred to live in the cesspool of the country. And she had been happy too, because her father seemed please and even less attention would be drawn on her to come to New Orleans for a season.

Then the marriage plans had suddenly been made. She had not understood why they were necessary. Lady Genevieve was already pregnant so what good was marrying her off? Until she had descended from that rickety carriage and stood in front of a gloomy mansion, staring into the eyes of a woman who saw her only as competition. She had no need to play the games of politics that seemed to obsess the ton, yet she could seen Lady Genevieve was an expert. And so arrangements had been made. Now Lady Davina Claire would be no more, and Lady Davina Mikaelson, wife of Lord Kol Mikaelson, 7th Duke of Pembroke would be born.

And now here she was, trussed up in a corset made of white whalebone and lace that probably cost more then the rest of her wardrobe. The hardened eyes of Lady Genevieve (never her mother, no matter what anybody said) glaring at her in the mirror. She looked gorgeous even then, with striking red hair and a figure of a woman even while with child. Oh lord, with child...She could not even think down that road. A call of "Five minute ladies" rang out and she forced herself to concentrate on the people around her. A dozen bridesmaids, her supposed friends since childhood, each one an elite member of the ton . And she would have to thank each one of them personally, even though she didn't know their names. The only one she knew was her soon to be sister in law, Lady Rebekah. Lady Rebekah smiled at her in the mirror, adjusting a curl that fell from her bun. She could only weakly smile back. Lady Rebekah had shown up the day she came back to New Orleans, already having planned the basis of the wedding but wanting her opinion. After a ten minute discussions about flowers, Lady Rebekah had rather gracefully taken the reins at Davina's look of total incomprehension and Davina was nothing if not grateful. However all that time had left her to worry. Nobody could understand why a Mikaelson would marry a girl from the countryside and one from such a poor family at that. Certainly Lord Kol was the youngest of the brothers, but he was reputed to be a handsome rake, as well as a war hero. He had more then enough medals to prove it, and the queen had given him a duchy in recompense. How was she supposed to stand proud next to that? She was plainly average at best and had no idea how to run duchy, let alone entertain the ton to the necessity that he would expect of his new wife. Suddenly a hand grasped her shoulders, turning her away gently. The blonde Aphrodite that was Lady Rebekah smiled at her. " Davina, you're going to be fine. And I am truly pleased to have you as my sister." Davina tried to smile was certain it looked like a snarl " Thank you Rebekah. Truly I..." Her voice stiffened for a second and Lady Genevieve looked distrustingly out of the corner her eye. Was she only able to see betrayal where fear was born? Davina was disheartened. She had always wanted a mother. Now she had no one.

A rustle was heard, people started moving out of the room. " Come on Davina" said Lady Rebekah, tugging at her elbow, " Your wedding is starting."

The wedding was quite gorgeous. All lace, diamonds and tall white lilies, it resembled a fairytale. The lace veil that covered her face was a absolute necessity, for she was certain to start crying. As her father let go of her hand and placed it in her husbands she felt an urgent need to run. But she had nowhere to go. As the priest started droning on about fidelity and a strong union, she hazarded a glance at her husband. He was as handsome as described, all brown hair and toned skin. His body had the strength of a man used to a weapon, and his chest was dotted with medals. His eyes had the same look that the two brothers flanking him did. A steely determination was a common Mikaelson characteristic it seemed. As if sensing her, her Lord Husband glanced over and smirked. Her gaze flew directly to her feet. Oh lord he was so handsome. He probably had a dozen mistresses. As bile rose in her throat, she felt the need to puke on the priest. He would beat her and cheat on her. No man could look like that much of an angel without being a devil. She was pretty sure she was drowning.

And then the rings were exchanged, and Lady Davina Mikaelson became a Duchesse of Pembroke. Her vows spoke of fidelity and honor. His of devotion and determination. All the time his eyes bore into hers with a heat that made her flush. He placed a chaste kiss on the veil when the time was called, yet draped an arm around her the second she was declared his lawfully wedded wife. Congratulations were quick. Rebekah hugged her for a long moment, and all the woman whispered quick ideas to make the wedding night as easy as possible. Be submissive... Don't fight...It gets better...She felt ill again. They smoothly moved their way to the exits. Her now Lord Husband wanted to be at his estates as soon as possible. And his brothers, a very polite Elijah and a rakish Niklaus helped guide them out. Kol's arm had not loosened and the glare he sent the coachmen when he offered his hand into the carriage could have burned through steel. The interior of the carriage was as beautiful as the outside, all ornate gold. Oh lord give her strength, for she was not ready for his life. Her husband sat across from her, draped languorously in a way that reminded her of a panther stalking a prey. " You're not happy." Her husband spoke in a bass rumble that sounded like silk. " Beg pardon my lord?" Her voice sounded hesitant even to her ears. " No, you're not the type to beg. To act like you're begging certainly, but never to actually mean it." He sounded assured, and as he stared at her, she felt a certainty that he could read her as well as she could read him. She tried again, a tremulous smile appearing on her face. " I am truly happy my Lord. To be with you and...and the wedding was so beautiful." He waved her comment away with the flick of long pale fingers, perfect for playing the piano. "The wedding was all my sisters doing. A paragon of manipulation certainly. We are the Dionysus and Andromeda of the ton. Yet, you had nothing to do with it." She felt her heart sink in her chest. Was he displeased she had nothing to do with the wedding planning? Nothing she said could have compared with Rebekah's style and yet she had desperately wanted this marriage to start off well. Her husband's eyes tightened. "Davina, my love, please stop comparing yourself to my sister. You are not her and I am quite pleased with you." One thing he said repeated in a circle in her mind. " I am your love?" " You are my wife and I will hold to the fidelity that I promised you." His voice teased "I hold true to my word, my love." " I...I don't know what you want from me." He leaned forward. Ardent fire basking in his eyes. " You. All of you. And you will have all of me. We can do this, Davina, if you let me." She smiled and for the first time in months, it was genuine. "I do."


	2. Chapter 2

**So hi guys! Basically this idea came to me at 3 am and I wrote about it. This piece is super artsy.**  
 **Again no criticism, constructive or otherwise.**  
 **If you guys want any kolvina piece written, send me a prompt and if I like it I might write about it!**  
 **However, this is probably not going to be a regular thing. I'm a senior, I'm busy and I'm a perfectionist.**  
 **Thank you to all the nice comments and likes!**

 _Again: I dont own anything. Everything belongs to_ _The Originals_ _and_ _The Vampire Diaries_ _._

Fire burning and rotting flesh was his family's legacy. His siblings were unflinching in their loyalty to the crown and to their (theirs never his) niece Hope, princess of the stormed castle. (What kind of name was Hope? A more blatant desire for change he had never seen).

So they fought. In shadowy glens they whispered words of revolution. Bodies strewn in way startingly close to art. Blood running through the streets the color of their hearts that did not beat. They cut and bled and toiled for the birthright of the Mikaelson name.

The call for power gleamed in the eyes of his family. In shadows hid the passionate lovers and the obsessive killers. His sister-witch practiced magic in obscurity, calling on the gods with no name to save her from a life that had no essence. His siblings were as alien to him as the century in which he survived. His siblings went to war. Their enemies were cut down like blades of grass, a scythe of death touching them in their beds.

So did the king sit on his throne. With a crown of gold and rubies, eyes that shone the vanity of the sun (always glowing, always admired) with his princess in a crown of jeweled flowers (diamonds and emeralds that had no value next to still beating beauty). A king and a crown so vociferously won. The word-smith, the warrior queen, the shadow witch and the queen of hearts obscured the throne they so fought to win for another.

The crown is already lost. Snakes crawl from the woodwork, claiming, stealing grabbing a title that offers nothing. So the blade-crafter walks away from the lies and the shadows that hide the light of truth.

A city twinkles in the distance. Of stone foundations and crafted iron. True-beating flowers nestle in the shadows of monuments to death and destruction. Bones of the old, the young, the weak and the strong form the spine of the paved roads. The blade-crafter, Kol Mikaelson, has never loved a city more.  
He adjusts his twinkling diamond cufflinks and stares at the city he calls home. A feather light touch grazes his inner arm. He turns, a luminous smile filling his face as he turns to his wife. Hair swept up in a complicated swirl he cannot touch. A dress as black as night, molding to the beauty of her youthful grace. The simple iron ring that marks their love. The twilight-witch he has tied to him for all eternity. Both wear the shadows they have wrought on their bodies. The spiraling scars of battle, the split souls of the divided and the remorse of the truly tarnished. The twilight-witch hidden in the obscurity she has fashioned. Davina Claire eyes twinkle with happiness, all sunlight and flourishing flowers. As they stare into the sunset of the glistening city of crumbling castles and twinkling beacons, both smile at their eternity laid bare before them.


End file.
